


city of stars: a story in lists

by mxdness



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, La La Land AU, basically i watched la la land the other day and got sucked into that wormhole so, here this is, rated T for minor language, told in list form
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxdness/pseuds/mxdness
Summary: 5 Things Amy Santiago Thinks on the Morning of Tuesday, December 21st1. That she's regretting her entire life plan- the one that included moving to Los Angeles -because it's winter and the sun is not only still shining, but making her feel sweaty and gross and sticky as it shines through her Prius' windshield.2. That she might take a right turn instead of a left to get a bagel from Yeastie Boys on Sunset Boulevard on her way to work because, despite her 3-year stint in California, she's still trying desperately to understand the appeal of kale smoothies for breakfast.3. That kale is severely overrated.4. That she might not be so great at this actress thing after all since the words for this script aren't sticking in her head.5. That this traffic jam is definitely, definitely going to make her late for work- and Santiagos arenotlate.





	1. POV: Amy

**5 Things Amy Santiago Thinks on the Morning of Tuesday, December 21st**

1\. That she's regretting her entire life plan- the one that included moving to Los Angeles -because it's _winter_ and the sun is not only still shining, but making her feel sweaty and gross and sticky as it shines through her Prius' windshield.  
2\. That she might take a right turn instead of a left to get a bagel from Yeastie Boys on Sunset Boulevard on her way to work because, despite her 3-year stint in California, she's still trying desperately to understand the appeal of kale smoothies for breakfast.  
3\. That kale is severely overrated.  
4\. That she might not be so great at this actress thing after all since the words for this script aren't sticking in her head.  
5\. That this traffic jam is definitely, definitely going to make her late for work- and Santiagos are not late.

**2 Events That Occur When Traffic Finally Starts to Move**

1\. A man in a 1983 Dodge Riviera pulls up next to her and leans on his horn for entirely longer than necessary.  
2\. Amy flips him off with the hand that isn't holding her script- because she's _moving_ , okay, she was just a little preoccupied -and puts her foot on the gas pedal.

**Exactly 3 Types of Customers That Driver Amy a Little More Insane Every Day at Work**

THE HAGGLER

Identifiable Traits: Has a spot in their wallet/purse dedicated to outdated coupons, involved in their high school's debate team, has been _coming to this place before you were even a twinkle in your father's eye, young lady_ , positively relentless, thinks that (somehow) the cashier is in control of the pricing.  
Common Phrase(s): Equal parts "Right, but, last time I was here..." and "That's my final offer!"  
Rank on the Santiago Scale of Peskiness: The office supply store down the street running out of summer binder clips.

THE SUSAN

Identifiable Traits: A pair of Jimmy Choo ankle strap heels paired exclusively with a knock-off Gucci handbag, an air of almost suffocating haughtiness, constant readiness to retort to any suggestion- however reasonable -that you might have, has been personally victimized by this establishment and _you, Amy San Diego, are responsible for righting this egregious wrong_.  
Common Phrase(s): "I'd like to speak to the manager, please."  
Rank on the Santiago Scale of Peskiness: Having 7 cavities despite an intense and rigorous brushing regimen.

THE PLEASE STAY AWAY FROM ME

Identifiable Traits: A penchant for inappropriate jokes, an unending supply of outdated references that _oh, you probably wouldn't understand_ , a habit of winking so frequently someone could rightly assume a stroke was occurring, the irresistible need to leave their phone number on the merchant copy of the receipt because Amy definitely, definitely wanted that.  
Common Phrase(s): "Hon", "Babe", "Sweetheart", "My parents didn't show me enough attention as a child and I'm projecting unwanted attention onto you as a result of my toxic upbringing."  
Rank on the Santiago Scale of Peskiness: Failing recess because (apparently) _teachers need a break too, Amy_.

**1 Irritating Thing, Followed by One Really Awesome Thing**

1\. A customer screwing her face up saying, "This doesn't taste like almond milk," and holding her cup up to the light like it's a counterfeit bill, to which Amy says, "Oh, it is! I know sometimes-" only to be cut off by a haughty glare and an, "I'll have a black coffee please."  
2\. A celebrity, whose name is not coming to her because of equal parts panic and shock, but whose face she'd recognize easier than her own in the mirror, walking into her place of work.

**What the Celebrity's Heels Sound like on the Linoleum as She Walks Back to Her Golf Cart Outside**

1\. A series of _cha-ching's_ followed by a handful of _ka-ching's_ , all of which make Amy absently think about the single twenty dollar bill in her wallet (and how, if she had more than one, she'd arrange them by serial number).

**What It Feels like After Amy's Phone Alarm Goes off Cuz It's past Five and She's Got an Audition, Her Manager Tells Her to Be Five Minutes Early Tomorrow (Not a Request), and She Almost- Almost -Forgets Her Script Under the Counter and Knocks into a Table on Her Way Back to Get It, Getting Iced Coffee and Scone All over Her White Button-Up**

1\. Cold.  
2\. A lot like there are pumpkin scone crumbs in her new bra.

**What She Feels like Saying About the Iced Coffee on Her Shirt and the Scone Crumbs in Her New Bra**

1\. Shit.  
2\. Because, well, _shit_.

**A Couple of Things Amy Finds in Her Car in the Search for Something to Cover up the Stain**

1\. Three receipts from the Jamba Juice on Hollywood and Western- two of them for kale smoothies (she really did _try_ to get on that train) and one for an Orange Dream Machine. She has her weaknesses, and some of them taste like orange sherbet.  
2\. A copy of the New York Times crossword puzzle from an issue in June that she'd been particularly fond of, and had meant to call her father about.  
3\. Paperwork for a gym membership she'd signed up for in hopes of getting a start on her New Year's resolution and has not used even once.  
4\. A Blockbuster card...?  
5\. Her favorite purple coffee thermos, hidden underneath a-  
6\. -red winter coat, stuffed into a corner of her trunk next to an unopened package of binder rings and a box of Economy Jumbo paper clips from Staples-  
7\. -that she promptly puts on, zips up halfway, and sweats in on her drive to the audition.

**Reasons Why the Audition Should Go Well**

1\. Amy is prepared. Super prepared. Super-duper-overly-prepared. (Not quite confident- just prepared -but she’s getting there. Really.)  
2\. Despite her stupid stain and the sweat that’s gathering underneath her coat, she pours her goddamn heart out in there. All four chambers.  
3\. She actually musters up tears- she’s been practicing -and gives what she considers a genuine, raw, and authentic performance.

**Reasons Why the Audition Does Not Go Well**

1\. The assistant to the casting director walks in right as she gets to the good stuff. ("No, no, Turner's fine. So you- are you waiting 'til Denver to tell her?")  
2\. The casting director holds up a finger and tells her, "I think we're good. Thanks for coming in," while the fake tears are still drying on her cheeks.

**The Amount of Women Amy Walks past in the Hallway Outside of the Audition Room That Look Exactly like Her, but Better, and the Amount of Them That Have Coffee Stains on Their Shirts**

1\. Thirteen.  
2\. Zero.

**What It Feels like When She Walks into Her Bedroom at the End of the Day**

1\. Like stepping on a cloud through the pearly white gates of heaven (aside from the blister on her heel).

**Some Things That Can Be Found in the Room of One Amy Santiago, Actress, Childhood Playwright, and Barista Extraordinaire**

1\. A picture of Ingrid Bergman in vibrant color that takes up the entire wall next to her bed because, well, Casablanca. That's why.  
2\. A waist-high bookshelf (featuring classics like Uta Hagen's "Respect for Acting", Stella Adler's "Art of Acting", and Michael Shurtleff's "Audition") arranged first alphabetically, then by height, followed by color. She'd found it at a yard sale for dirt cheap, probably because of the awful, hand-painted depiction of a wizard riding a unicorn that graced the back. Amy paid for it with the cash she had at the time, and used the leftover to buy a bucket of yellow paint and remodeled the thing before it even entered her bedroom space- she had standards.  
3\. An antique globe on a (fake) gold stand covered in tiny, red thumbtacks for the places she's been, and blue for the places she wants to go. It's mostly blue.  
4\. An ancient brown-and-green suitcase stuffed in a corner by her dresser- the one she'd packed all of her things in on her move from Jersey, and stuffed between her knees on the never-ending bus ride here. The sight of a Greyhound still makes her shiver, and- if she thinks about it too long -Amy can still feel the cold press of the bus window against her cheek, the rumble of the ground underneath her.  
5\. Four fluffy pillows and a blue-and-white patterned down comforter, all of which feel _amazing_ when she falls unceremoniously back onto them as soon as she walks through the door.

**An Idea That Sounds Really Great and Appealing After the Shitshow of a Day That Amy Has Had**

1\. Staying home, feeling sorry for herself, and eating leftover take-out from The Catcher in the Thai that- despite its ridiculous name -is really delicious, especially after it's been sitting in the fridge for a day.

**Some Names for a Thai Restaurant That Amy Has Written down on a Sticky Note on the Fridge**

1\. Thai Fast Thai Furious  
2\. Back Thai the Future  
3\. Thai-Tanic  
4\. A Thai to Kill  
5\. Thai After Thai  
6\. Tinker Tailor Soldier Thai

**An Idea That Sounds Not so Great and Significantly Less Appealing After the Shitshow of a Day That Amy Has Had**

1\. Going to a party featuring every Hollywood cliche crammed into a single home. _Humanity at its finest_ , Rosa calls it.

**2 Things That Convince Her to Leave the Safety and Comfort of Her Own Home**

1\. The blue dress that Kylie pulls out of Amy's closet ("This looks familiar." "I was going to give it back!") and sets around her neck, hanger and all.  
2\. The promise of alcohol.

**A Couple of Events That Make Amy Want to Leave This Party as Soon as Humanly Possible**

1\. Her roommates disappear into the crowd almost immediately (thanks, assholes) and leave Amy to fend for herself.  
2\. The two women on the pristine white couch in the sitting room look at each other and promptly leave as soon as she tries to start a conversation with them.  
3\. While she's sitting awkwardly alone a man that smells like peach schnapps slides up next to her and puts his face way, way closer than necessary to her own.  
4\. The couple in a battle to eat each other's faces are blocking the bathroom door.

**What Amy Does After Said Events Occur**

1\. Leaves the party.

**Things Amy Says When She Gets Back to the Spot Where Her Prius Should Be and Instead Finds a Sign That Says 'No Parking Anytime: Tow-Away Zone', Simultaneously Discovers That Her Phone Is Dead, and Comes to the Realization That the Walk Back to Her Apartment Is at Least an Hour**

1\. "No, no, no, no."  
2\. "No, this cannot be happening."  
3\. "Shit. Shit, shit."  
4\. "Fuck!"

**Some Stuff She Passes as She Walks Back Home**

1\. Shrubs, dead grass, and a lot of palm trees.  
2\. A never-ending series of neon signs advertising pizza, live music, and 'Girls, Girls, Girls'. _Where are the 'Boys, Boys, Boys'?_ Amy wonders.  
3\. A mural of Selena Quintanilla on the side of a white brick building which, if she were just a little bit tipsier, she might have cried at.  
4\. A new bookstore, which she makes a mental note to visit later  
5\. A smoothie shop advertising kale infused drinks, which she flips off as she passes by.

**What Amy Feels When She Hears the Gorgeous, Ambient Piano Melody Drifting Quietly Through the Air like She's in an Indie Movie Being Screened at Sundance**

1\. Awe.  
2\. Intrigue.  
3\. Like she's heard it before.  
4\. Like she's been hearing it all her life, somehow.  
5\. That she's being drawn to it like a magnet, and she doesn't know why.

**What Amy Does When She Finally Pinpoints Where the Song Is Coming From**

1\. Stops in her tracks.  
2\. Opens the door.


	2. POV: Jake

**5 Things Jake Peralta Thinks on the Morning of Tuesday, December 21st**

1\. That Los Angeles traffic is, objectively, the absolute worst, and makes him want to claw his eyes out.  
2\. That he should probably, maybe update his stereo system at some point, because the song playing on the mixtape that he's got docked is crackling through the speakers- and not in a pleasant, aesthetically pleasing kind of way.  
3\. That he still can't quite _get_ the song he's tapping out on the steering wheel under his fingers, and it's driving him even crazier than the traffic.  
4\. That, yes, it's absolutely necessary he rewind it to _that exact spot_ for the forty-second time until he gets it right.  
5\. That he can practically _taste_ the coffee he's swinging in to get from Joe's- across from that godawful Tapas  & Tunes place -and he really, really needs cars to start _going_ already. 

**2 Events That Occur When Traffic Finally Start to Move**

1\. The green Prius in front of him does not get with the program, the one where people are _moving, moving, let's go_ , so he does what any logical person would do- he pulls up next to them and honks his horn long enough to get his point across.  
2\. The woman in said Prius enthusiastically flips him off. City of Angels his ass. 

**Times This Month Jake Has Gone to Joe's for the Sole Purpose of Scowling at What Was Formerly Known as Van Beek Studios- Now Tapas & Tunes -And Trying Not to Shake His Fist at the Employees from Across the Street**

1\. Twelve. 

**3 Things Jake Notices When He Steps over the Threshold into His Really Kind of Shitty Apartment, Because He's Not Making Enough Money to Afford Prime L.A. Real Estate Right Now- He's Working on It, Alright?**

1\. That it's- well, really shitty, like always. Dingy, outdated, and depressing in a weird sort of way. (But it's his. So.)  
2\. The cardboard boxes scattered around his mostly empty living room- aside from the Steinway that's set up residence in the middle -that are full of dusty black-and-white photos, trinkets and memorabilia. (Like a handbill for a Billie Holiday show at the Apollo theater, or the promo sticker for Miles Davis' _Kind of Blue_ album which he _still_ cannot believe he managed to get.)  
3\. A candy-sweet smell in the air which can only mean one of two things. 

**The Two Things It Could Mean**

1\. That birthday wish he made when he turned nine finally came true and his bedroom is filled with assorted sugary treats- namely Reese's Pieces and Twix.  
2\. Gina's dropped by unannounced and covered in a signature Juicy Couture scent. 

**The One He Really Wants It to Be**

1\. The candy thing. He desperately wants it to be the candy thing. ("Are you there, God? It's me, Jake Peralta. Listen-")

**How the Conversation That Follows (After He Discovers That It's Not the Candy Thing- God, Are You Even Listening? It's Jake Again-) Would Look If It Were a Screenplay**

INT. JAKE'S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM- DAY

GINA LINETTI is sitting at a table with her phone in her hands, loudly chewing bubblegum. 

JAKE  
You have to stop breaking into my home.

GINA  
(unimpressed)  
You call this a home?

After realizing what she's sitting on, Jake lets out a long sigh. He sets a hand on his hip in distress, the other reaching up to rest at his temple. Gina looks at him blankly. 

JAKE  
(exasperated)  
Please don't sit on that. 

GINA  
(gesturing broadly, supposedly at the universe)  
Why wouldn't I sit on this? It's a stool. Stools are for sitting.

She turns her attention back to her phone. The familiar music of Kwazy Cupcakes is playing.

JAKE  
(shaking his head)  
That's not...the point- Hoagy Carmichael sat on that stool, alright? Come on, get up.

Gina lets out a dramatic groan and stands. 

GINA  
(reaching down beside her purse on the floor)  
I brought you this. It's a throw rug.

Jake, back turned, reaches for the Hoagy Carmichael stool. He picks it up and sets it back on top of the bookshelf where it belongs. 

JAKE  
(without looking)  
I don't need a throw rug. 

GINA  
What if I told you Louis Armstrong puked on it?

Jake turns and makes a face at Gina. 

JAKE  
Okay, that's insulting.  
(beat)  
...did he?

Gina throws the rug to the side and crosses her arms. 

GINA  
(disgusted)  
At least you're consistent. 

She glances around the room- at the overflowing cardboard boxes, the various instruments, the trinkets that Jake's been collecting for as long as he can remember. 

GINA  
(continuing)  
Are you ever going to unpack?

JAKE  
(nodding)  
Yeah, 'course. When I'm in my club.

GINA  
It's like you broke up with a girl and you're stalking her. You're not still going by that place, are you?

Jake fidgets and thinks of the coffee he had earlier. 

JAKE  
(clearly lying)  
No.

Gina levels a cold stare at him. 

JAKE  
(putting his hands up)  
Okay, maybe it's getting a little weird at this point-

GINA  
(brow furrowed)  
-a _little_?

JAKE  
(in disbelief)  
They turned it into a tapas-samba place. Can you believe it? Who wants that?  
What demographic is that for?

Gina leans against the wall, shaking her head, and blows a pink bubble with her gum. She reaches into her pocket and fishes out a napkin, a phone number scrawled on it in curly handwriting, and hands it to him. Jake takes it reluctantly. 

GINA  
There's a girl I want you to meet. 

JAKE  
(sighing)  
I don't want to meet someone. Does she even like jazz?

Gina raises an eyebrow. 

GINA  
Uh, probably not, since she isn't eighty-five or from New Orleans.

Jake chews at the inside of his cheek and crosses his arms. 

JAKE  
Then what are we supposed to talk about?

GINA  
(throwing her head back in frustration)  
I don't know, Jake, the weather? Your favorite movies, star signs? Date stuff. 

Jake rolls his eyes. 

GINA  
(continuing)  
Jake. You need to get serious about something, _anything_ , because this is not going to end well. You're living like a hermit. You're driving without insurance. You have a mail tub. _Mail tub_ , Jake!

JAKE  
(huffing)  
I am serious. I had a plan. I just got Shanghaied.

GINA  
That guy was shady, and everyone but you knew it. And it's not that romantic. 

JAKE  
Since when is _romantic_ a bad word?

Gina walks the short distance to the bathroom without answering. As she returns, she flings an envelope at him like a throwing star. Jake catches it against his chest. 

GINA  
Unpaid bills are _not_ romantic. You're in a slump.

She picks up her purse, puts her phone inside, and heads to the door. 

JAKE  
(with a theatrical gasp)  
I am not in a slump! This is- it's a p-muls. I'm p-muls-ing, Gina. 

Gina stops in the now open doorway and smiles at him, shaking her head. 

GINA  
(patting Jake's chest)  
I love you. Unpack these boxes. 

Jake frowns and stares at the back of her head as she walks into the hallway. 

JAKE  
I'm changing the locks. 

GINA  
(from around the corner)  
You can't afford it!

JAKE  
(yelling at the empty space she's left)  
It's a p-muls, Gina! I'm a phoenix rising from the ashes!

There's nothing in reply but the distant sound of traffic outside. Jake shuts the door, then looks down at the napkin in his hand. There's a little heart drawn in the corner. He throws it in the garbage. 

**Some Things That Can Be Found Inside Jake’s Fridge as He Takes out a Slice of Meat Supreme Pizza- Not Display Temperature, Unfortunately - After Gina Leaves**

1\. A half-empty carton of milk that’s starting to smell a little _off_ but that he keeps forgetting to throw out.  
2\. Leftover tandoori chicken from the Indian place a couple blocks over.  
3\. A tupperware container of vodka gummy bears, courtesy of one Gina Linetti.  
4\. Something that definitely involves goats and very possibly their hooves, courtesy of one Charles Boyle.  
5\. An entire three-layer chocolate cake he bought on a whim the last time he was at the grocery store that he plans on devoting his entire evening to. 

**A List Of Things A Functional Adult Would Be Doing Right Now**  
1\. Unpacking (according to Gina).  
2\. Cleaning out the fridge.  
3\. Looking for a better job.  
4\. Not eating pizza for breakfast. 

**What Jake Does Instead**

1\. Does not unpack.  
2\. Does not clean out his fridge.  
3\. Does not look for a better job.  
4\. Definitely- and gleefully -eats pizza for breakfast.  
5\. Sets the Art Tatum LP he was listening to in his car onto the record player, and picks up where he left off. 

**Jake’s Estimate of Times He Misses _That Exact Note_ , Hits an Unintentional Sharp or Flat, or Makes a General, Blundering Mistake (Taking into Consideration His Complete Lack of Understanding When It Comes to Mathematics Or, Say, Numbers) as He Plays Along**

1\. One-hundred-million-billion-and-two.

**What It Feels Like When He Finally Gets It Right**

1\. Like he just got the news that Tapas & Tunes is getting closed down under mysterious circumstances. 

**A Brief Description of What Happens When Jake Goes to Work at a Restaurant That Will, for Legal Purposes, Remain Unnamed**

1\. He makes a face as soon as he walks through the doors at the assortment of Christmas decorations that are covering most surfaces because it might be December, but it really, really doesn’t feel like it.  
2\. His boss makes a beeline over to him looking _unenthused_.  
3\. Jake taps into his professional persona and slaps on a wide smile. “Thanks for having me back,” he says cheerfully. (He is not feeling cheerful.)  
4\. His boss does not smile back and instead continues to look rather unenthused. “You’re welcome. Stick to the setlist,” he says.  
5\. Jake nods, and then nods some more, and says, “Of course. Though I don’t think anyone really cares what I play.”  
6\. “I do,” his boss says, “and I don’t want to hear free jazz.”  
7\. Jake makes an intense effort to keep the smile on his face and nods once more, sits down at the keys, and slips a five dollar bill out of his wallet and into the tip jar as incentive.  
8\. He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, goes against everything he stands for, and starts playing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

**How Bad He Wants to Scowl at His Boss and All These Tasteless Restaurant-Goers and Say, “I’m Jewish” Before Breaking into a Raucous Jazz Melody**

1\. Really, really bad. 

**What He Tries to Do**

1\. Stick to the setlist.

**What He Actually Does**

1\. Doesn’t stick to the setlist. The lack of applause (and tips) after “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” coupled with the faint chatter of starry-eyed couples and families alike is making his brain go _numb_ so it’s not his fault, really. Jake starts “Deck the Halls” with honest intentions, but he’s just _restless_ and his fingers are itching to dance over the keys, to drift, to chart their own path. And despite his efforts to hold them back, all of a sudden he’s just _flying_ and in that moment it’s like there’s nothing else in the entire world but him and the piano. He can almost _feel_ the heat of a spotlight on him, the eyes of an enthralled crowd on the edge of their seats- Jake’s brain is decidedly less numb.

**What Jake Realizes as He’s Yanked Unceremoniously Back into Reality**

1\. He stood up, at some point.  
2\. His boss is looking at him, even less enthused than he was before.  
3\. The entire restaurant is looking at him, actually.  
4\. A woman in a bright blue dress is standing a couple feet in front of the door staring at him, and looks like the wind has been knocked out of her. (Which, quite honestly, is how Jake is feeling right about now, too.)

**The Amount of Time They Stare at Each Other, and What It Kind of Feels Like**

1\. Undetermined. Jake’s not taking any more chances with numbers but, if he had to guess, kind of a long time.  
2\. Like he can’t hear anything or see anything outside of the weird sort of bubble they’re in.  
3\. Like the spotlight has skipped over him and straight on to her. 

**The Conversation with His Boss (And Subsequent Events) That Follow Jake’s Temporary Deafness and Tunnel Vision**

1\. Even though he’s been talking, Jake tunes in right as his boss says, “...every goddamned night.” He cringes at that and keeps his mouth shut for a second since he really, really doesn’t want to beg but, “I promise I’ll stick to the setlist, just-”

His boss holds up a hand. “Too late. You’re done. “

Jake furrows his brow. “You know you won’t find a better player.”

The man huffs a humorless laugh and leans in to say, “You think anyone in here gives a shit?” before shaking his head and walking off. Jake’s face falls. He grabs his lonely five dollar bill from the tip jar and makes his way to the door in a rush. He doesn’t need this job- he’s got a three-layer chocolate cake waiting for him at home. Before Jake can leave, though, the woman in the blue dress blocks his path. He hears her take a breath before saying, “I just wanted to say that- I saw your playing, and-” 

Jake knows he’s being a dick. He does. But it’s not the time, the _day_ even, to listen to anything anyone has to say right now and, well, he’s got that cake. So he shoulders past her out the door, and clenches his jaw as it slams shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late! i planned on having it up last saturday, but work n school were kind of crazy this past week. anyway, thanks so much for reading! i appreciate all of your kudos & comments so much!! we'll back to amy in the next chapter (where these two will have a proper introduction!)


	3. POV: Amy

**Some Things Amy Actually, Honest-To-God Says During Auditions for Questionable Characters Because, to Be Quite Honest, She Can’t Afford to Be Picky**

1\. A fake chart in her hand, clad in scrubs from a Party City costume she never wore for Halloween, “I don’t like the fissure on the CT scan. Did you test for achromatopsia? Someone page Dr. Miller.”  
2\. Another Party City costume, a fake badge clipped to her belt, “D.O.A on 23rd, perp laughing his ass off,” she shakes her head, eyes narrowed. “Damn Miranda rights.”  
3\. She’s got her hair back, teacher-voice in place. “This is my classroom. You don’t like it, door’s to my left.” A woman with glasses on the tip of her nose and a Midwestern accent says, “Lady, why you be trippin’ like that?” To which Amy sets aside her pride and replies with, “No, Jamal. You be trippin’,” and pretends like she doesn’t hate herself in that moment. 

**How Often Amy Likes to Go to Parties She's Invited To**

1\. Like, forty percent of the time. Tops. 

**How Often She Gets Talked into Going to Said Parties**

1\. Probably a solid eighty-five percent of the time. She’s not proud of it. 

**What Happens at This Particular Party**

1\. Amy tries her best to drown out the bad 80’s cover band on stage as she wanders through the crowd, people splashing into the pool and chatting along the side of the house. Someone is puking in the shrubs already, and her plan of scouring the card tables for finger food has been subsequently ruined. Kylie catches her gaze from across the pool and waves her over. 

“There you are! Amy! I want you to meet someone. David, this is Amy. Amy, David is a writer.” Kylie raises an expectant eyebrow at her as she gestures to the man at her side. He’s short, his suit looks cheap, and his hairline is fighting a losing battle with his scalp. She shakes his hand and in the seventy-two seconds Amy stands there, he hasn’t stopped talking about himself once. She looks over his head at Kylie who only shrugs unhelpfully. 

“They say I have a knack for world-building,” he rambles, and Amy nods. 

“Right. I’m going to grab a drink,” she says with a fake smile, pointing toward the pseudo-bar back near the house. 

Amy slips away from the balding world-builder and back into the throng of people, and despite her efforts to ignore it, the terrible music is somehow only getting louder. And it must be some cosmic, karmic nonsense that makes her turn and find that asshole from the lounge on stage in head-to-toe polyester with a keytar slung across his chest.

She bites her lip to fight off a laugh and makes her way to the empty space in front of the stage. When they finish their rendition of Starship’s "We Built This City", the frontman bounces around and asks, “Alright, one more before we break! Any requests?”

Amy raises her hand and yells, “I Ran,” with maybe a little too much self-satisfaction. The asshole with the keytar stares at her from the stage, and Amy doesn’t even bother covering her mouth to hide the smug grin sliding across her face. 

“ _I Ran_ it is,” the frontman enthuses. “Jake! Start us off, piano man.”

Jake, then. He scowls at her before tapping his keyboard to count the band in. The song launches into a synth-y start and Jake- well, he’s playing one note. Over, and over, and over. Amy grins wider as she starts to move to the music, swaying her hips and moving her shoulders up and down. She lip-syncs her heart out, reaching an arm toward Jake in faux desperation. _I ran, I ran so far away..._

He levels a glare at her, the seriousness of it lessened by the Thriller-esque jacket he’s got on. Amy leaves him to it with a raise of her eyebrows and dramatic jazz hands and finds her way to the punch bowl. 

**The Conversation That Ensues When The Band Finishes Their Set, Amy Gets Her Drink, and Jake Finds Her Standing Just Off From the Crowd**  
1\. “Okay, I remember you,” he says, pointing a finger at her chest. Amy takes a step back and raises an eyebrow. His face softens a bit and he continues, “And I’m sorry if I was...curt. That night.”

“ _Curt?_ ”

He sets his hands on his hips and sighs. “Alright, I was an asshole. I can admit that."

Amy nods. “Okay.”

“...but requesting I Ran from a serious musician? Come on.”

She coughs before she can take a sip of her drink. “Oh my God. Did you just call yourself a serious musician?”

He furrows his brow and, after a minute, “I don’t think so.”

Amy runs her tongue across her teeth as she looks at him. “Can I borrow that outfit?”

Jake glances down at what he’s wearing, brow furrowed. “Why?”

She hides a grin behind the rim of her glass. “I have an audition next week. I’m playing a serious firefighter.”

He narrows his eyes. “So you’re an actress. Makes sense. Have I seen you in anything?”

Amy tilts her head like she’s thinking hard and says, “Uh- the coffee shop on the Warner Brothers lot? That’s a classic.”

He smirks. “So you’re a barista. Now I see how you can look down on me from all the way up there.” Before he can say anything else, the frontman of his cover band pops up behind his shoulder. 

“Jake. Second set,” and it’s Amy’s turn to smirk. 

Jake looks straight ahead, mouth a thin line. Soon as the guy leaves: “He doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“He just told you what to do.”

“I let him.” Amy, brows raised: _right_. “What’s your name?” 

“Amy.”

“Amy. Guess I’ll see you in the movies.”

**Some Songs the Band Plays After Their Conversation (None at the Request of Amy Santiago)**

1\. "Don’t Stop Believin’", Journey  
2\. "Beat It", Michael Jackson  
3\. "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go", Wham!  
4\. "Mickey", Toni Basil  
5\. "Jessie’s Girl", Rick Springfield

**Who She Talks to While Waiting in the Line for the Valet, Even Though She’d Really, Really Rather Not**

1\. David, the writer. (“I was thinking Goldilocks, but from the point of view of the bears. Home-invasion thriller. We’re thinking Charlize for the bear. We’re flipping it. Feels like a franchise, but the thing is it’s grounded, you know?”)

**Who She Spots Passing by the Valet with Keys in His Hand**

1\. Jake, the pianist. (Keytarist? Polyester aficionado?) 

**What She Does, Probably Against Her Better Judgement But, Give Her a Break, David Is _Still_ Talking, _God_ , David**

1\. Amy yells “George Michael!” at Jake as he passes by, at which he stops and says: “You again,” looking entirely unamused. Nevertheless, “Did you just get your keys?” she asks. He nods. “Can you get mine? The Prius.” Jake makes a face at all the keys until she says, “The one with the green ribbon.” He grabs them off of their hook, and tosses them to her as she approaches. Amy catches them with a “Thanks,” and shoots a smile in his direction. 

**What Amy Would Text to Kylie If It Weren't Super Obvious**

1\. awkward-moment-192.jpeg: _The awkward moment after you say goodbye to someone and you both walk in the same direction._ (Because- see -Jake is, like, walking the same way as her, you know? Like, they both said an uncomfortable goodbye and now they’re headed to their cars which are, ostensibly, near each other. Get it? It’s funny, right? The point is that Amy is totally up on her memes, which are relevant and not at all outdated.)

**How the Scene Plays Out**

1\. They trudge down a car-lined street over cracked asphalt in silence- or, at least, as close as it can get to silence: the sound of the party is still behind them, a distant, muffled thing. A non-event, as it were, until Amy’s heel catches on an uneven patch of ground. 

“Shit. Whoa,” she says, catching herself with a little flail of her arms.

Jake reaches out to hold onto her elbow, but stops short as she steadies herself. “Those look comfortable,” he says, eyeing her shoes. They’re not even that high, and they seemed like a great idea when she strapped them on at the beginning of the night, but they’re starting to cut off circulation to her toes now. 

“They aren’t,” Amy tells him, aiming her key fob...somewhere, hoping it’ll actually work this time. No luck. “Thanks for saving the day back there,” she says, avoiding his eyes. 

“Didn’t really have a choice,” Jake says, but she catches the way his mouth curves out of the corner of her eye. 

Amy waits for a beat, tries her keys yet again, then throws out the obvious. “Kinda weird we keep running into each other.”

He nods, aiming his own key fob. “Maybe it means something.”

“I doubt it,” she says casually. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so either,” Jake says, and catches her gaze for half a second. Amy looks away before she can think too much about it, clicking aimlessly at her lock button. 

“Put the clicker under your chin,” he tells her. 

Amy furrows her brow and glances at him skeptically. “What?”

Jake demonstrates, and sticks the thing right up against the underside of his chin. He looks like an idiot.

“It turns your head into an antenna, basically. Probably gives you cancer, but you can find your car faster,” he explains. 

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t live as long, but you get things done quicker, so it all evens out.”

She offers him a scrutinous look and an, “Oh my God.”

**The View They Come Across**

1\. The L.A. skyline, bright and glittering and absolutely gorgeous. The lights wind across the clearing like a ribbon as far as they can see, a rich, dark blue sky hanging above. The party sound has faded now, and it’s just the two of them standing in front of the most romantic thing Amy’s ever seen. 

**What They Do**

1\. Their eyes meet almost longingly, and a feeling flashes through Amy’s chest if only for a second. Then, the moment passed, they both voice a simultaneous: “Eh.”

“Not much to look at,” Jake says nonchalantly. 

“I’ve seen better,” Amy agrees, her next step eliciting a wince. There’s a bench off to their left, and she breathes a sigh of grateful relief as she heads toward it. Amy fishes the flats out of the bag over her shoulder, freeing her feet from their heeled prison, and ignores the fact that Jake has wandered over to sit next to her. 

She tries not to look at his hand splayed out on the bench between them, or the exact shade of brown his eyes are under the streetlight, the odd tenderness of this whole interaction. There’s some kind of magnet drawing her closer, there has to be. And the swirling intrigue and mystery that’s resting in the air between them- what the hell is that all about? Her brain is starting to fuzz out: _weak or no signal, please check the aerial cable connection and saved channels_. And Amy- pragmatic, practical, rational Amy -is losing her head over this _stranger_ , so the world has to have been tipped on its axis. 

And just like that, the magic spell is broken with the sharp ring of her cellphone. Amy startles, but reaches into her bag to grab it. She smooths a sweaty palm over her thigh, and answers it. 

**What Amy Says While She’s on the Phone**

1\. “Hey. Teddy. Can you hear me? Yeah, I’m leaving now. Just looking for- yeah. Uh-huh. Okay. See you soon.”

**What Amy Thinks While She’s on the Phone**

1\. That she didn’t want to answer the call, which is odd because Teddy might be boring but he’s _nice_.  
2\. That the feeling- the kind of dread that went through her when she saw his face pop up on the screen -is one she should probably examine. Later.  
3\. That this might be making Jake feel really awkward, which she feels kind of bad about. 

**What Happens After Amy’s Done with the Call**

1\. She hangs up the phone, puts it on silent, and shoves it back in her bag. The silence between them lays heavier than it did before. Amy, for lack of a better idea, looks over at Jake as they walk before putting the key fob under her chin. There’s a resounding beep, and her car comes into view. 

It should feel like a victory. 

“Good. Great. Well,” Amy stumbles, wringing her hands together in front of her. “Do you want a ride back to your car? Or…”

He shakes his head and says, “No, no, it’s fine. Thanks,” and her heart sinks the tiniest bit. 

“Okay,” Amy says, and pokes her tongue against the inside of her cheek. There’s nothing else to say, so she walks to the car. She waves and tells him, “‘Night,” before sliding into the driver’s seat, sticking the car into gear, and peeling off before she can do something stupid. 

(Amy sees him wave in the rearview mirror and, in the safe, atmospheric space of her car, she lets a dopey, thousand-watt grin slip.)

**Author's Note:**

> this form of writing is a different approach for me, but i hope you enjoyed! next chapter will be from jake's pov, and probably a little shorter. til next time!


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